


Prince of the Realm

by Prosper99



Category: Eerie Indiana
Genre: Explicit Language, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-18
Updated: 2021-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-27 14:06:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 12,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30123939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prosper99/pseuds/Prosper99
Summary: Dash X finds his roots, his family, his identity, and the meaning of true friendship. Simon thinks he's being replaced, Marshall develops a new respect for Dash, and Eerie's favorite paranormal detective agency moves to the next level.
Relationships: Marshall Teller/Dash X





	1. Prologue

Marshall Teller looked around for Simon but he was nowhere to be found. He thought it over and decided to go on this mission alone. His friend had agreed to meet him at the wooded lot 20 minutes ago but the younger boy was plainly scared and probably chickened out. Marshall walked his bike over to a pine tree and extended the kick stand. The bike promptly fell over as the stand dug into the soft soil and collapsed. Marshall picked it up and leaned it against the tree. The shack he was looking for was only about 50 feet away but you couldn't see it until you were almost on top of it. The current occupant liked his privacy and he had done an excellent job in camouflaging his home.

Marshall slowly made his way into the dense vegetation and was beginning to think he might be lost when he saw the shack. It had been built back in the 1950's by a crazy old man, a real-life hermit who hated people and noise and civilization. He had disappeared sometime ago and his run-down abode sat empty until it was discovered by the mysterious Dash X. Marshall made his way to the side and peeked inside through one of the giant cracks in the wall. The tiny single-room house was empty.

"Stick 'em up!" Marshall literally jumped straight up into the air at the words. His heart pounded as he whirled around and saw the smiling face of the always laughing, always intense, and always unpredictable, Dash.

"Oh, jeez! Uh, you really startled me!" Marshall put his hand over his heart; he could feel it beating like mad.

"So what brings you by, Teller? You casing the place? You gonna rob me?" Dash stopped smiling and looked a little mad. "Or maybe you decided to take up the Peeing Tom business. Were you hoping to catch a glimpse of me in my undies?" His broad smile reappeared as he patted the other boy on the back and invited him inside.

Marshall was a little shocked at the living conditions. The floor was plain dirt; the ceiling had about a thousand holes and looked like it could fall down any second. There was no furniture of any kind, only a couple of wooden crates, some cardboard boxes and a sleeping bag rolled up and tucked into a corner. The walls were as bad as the ceiling, filled with holes and cracks. It was amazing a strong gust of wind hadn't knocked the whole thing over by now.

Dash pulled the crates into the middle of the room and sat on one, gesturing for Marshall to sit on the other. The two boys sat face to face, about 2 feet apart. Dash grinned; he could tell his guest was nervous. "Is this a social call, Teller, or are you on one of your boy detective missions?" Dash's piercing eyes stared intently at Marshall.

"Social call, I guess. I wanted to check this place out for myself and see how you were doing. Nobody's seen you around for a few days. I thought maybe you were sick or hurt or something." Marshall tried his best to sound sincere but Dash wasn't buying it.

"Cut the act, buddy. If you really thought I was sick or hurt or even dead you would be dancing a jig. Now, why are you really here?" Dash shot Mars his creepiest smile.

"God, that's an awful thing to say, man. I really was worried about you! And … and … " Marshall paused, choosing his next words very carefully. He never knew what could set Dash off.

"Go, on, and?"

"I came to warn you. A couple of guys wearing cheesy suits have been asking questions, they even came by our house and talked to my folks, wanted to know if they had seen a boy with grey hair and weird marks on his hands. I think they might be cops, or worse."

"Or worse?" Dash was intrigued.

"Yeah, you know like hit men, or aliens, or alien hit men, or kidnappers from another universe, maybe gangsters or weirdoes who like kids with grey hair, maybe they want to put you in a zoo on their home planet in a different dimension and … " Marshall stopped talking because Dash was laughing so hard. He was doubled over and gasping for air.

"Teller, I love it when you get worked up about something, you're absolutely hilarious! Alien hit men from an inter-dimensional zoo!" Dash finally got control of himself and his laughter died down to a case of the giggles. "I'm sorry, man, go on with your story."

"Ok, so maybe I got a little carried away but even if they are nice guys, I sort of get the feeling you don't exactly want to be found." Marshall looked annoyed and a little hurt, he really did only have good intentions. Dash thought about the information and processed it. He decided to give his guest the benefit of the doubt.

"Thanks." Dash nodded thoughtfully. "Maybe I should lay low for a while longer. You never know, they could be bill collectors from Neptune! No, wait, Jehovah's Witnesses from Uranus!" He pronounced it your anus and erupted into a fresh bout of laughter.

"Oh go fuck yourself!" Marshall stood and angrily walked to the door. "Somebody tries to help you and you just make it a big joke! Some people actually want to be your friend, you know, and you just treat them like shit! Goodbye!"

Dash grabbed the taller boy by the shoulder and stopped him from leaving. Marshall spun around and took a swing at him, just missing contact with his chin. Dash laughed as he ducked the punch. "Hey look, I'm sorry, but I am sort of lacking any kind of social skills, you must have noticed that. I appreciate the info, I know you and your red headed minion are complete boy scouts and just want to help people, even me."

Marshall sat back down. "Simon! His name is Simon! I don't like you calling him names all the time. He's not a minion, whatever that is!"

"It's nothing bad, it just means junior partner, like a devotee, a follower." Dash was shocked by Marshall's outburst and for once he wasn't smiling, in fact he looked a little sad. "Where is he anyway? You two are always together."

"Dunno, he was supposed to be here but he never showed up, he's sort of scared of you and ..." Marshall looked embarrassed. " and ... I'm sorry I swore and took a swing at you."

"Dude. It's ok, I'm just surprised you even know words like that, and you used them correctly, I might add. You're not the first person to suggest what I should do with my male appendage, which technically speaking isn't quite long enough to perform the particular act you requested."

Marshall looked confused, and then turned red as the meaning of Dash's words became clear. Both boys laughed.

"Look, I brought you something." Marshall rummaged around in his overly large army-style jacket and pulled out a plastic bag. He tossed it to Dash who caught it in mid-air and looked inside. He looked up and then back down into the bag again, completely puzzled.

"Socks? You brought me a pair of socks?" Dash looked stunned.

"Not just socks, real wool socks, good ones, super thick. You said once your feet are always cold, even when it's warm out. My mom bought me a pair of these last winter, they're insane! Like the warmest most comfy things ever!" Marshall was afraid Dash would laugh at him but persisted. "I know what's it's like, having cold feet I mean, it really sucks! I can't do anything about most of your problems but I can at least try and fix this one. I know you must think I'm a total idiot but anyway, um, happy birthday man, whenever that is, I hope they help keep you warm."

Dash took the socks out of the bag, inspecting them. They were very soft and thick, hand stitched, and no doubt they were pretty expensive. Dash thought Marshall must have spent a good chunk of his paper route money on them. "You remembered some random comment I made about cold feet and you went out and bought me these? You bought me a present?" Dash looked down at the socks and mumbled. "I don't think I ever got a present before." Dash didn't laugh. In fact Marshall was shocked to see him wipe his eyes on the sleeve of his ratty old black coat and sniff. The great and powerful Dash X was crying. The mysterious, notoriously smart-mouthed punk who lived by his wits was actually crying, and over a pair of socks! Maybe he really was human after all.

"Thank you, Teller. Um, Marshall, Mars. Thank you, Mars." Dash dried his eyes again, he was clearly choked up by the present.

"Go ahead, put them on, you won't believe how crazy comfy they are!"

Dash pulled off his grungy black boots and Marshall was surprised to see that he wasn't wearing any socks at all. His thin bare feet were even whiter than his face and they really did look cold. He was sure that if he touched them they would feel like ice cubes. The weird boy with the grey hair eagerly pulled on the wool socks. He didn't even bother putting his boots back on, he jumped up and walked, then danced around the room, he felt like he was floating on clouds.

"These are the best damn things ever! They're insane! It's like sticking my feet inside a sheep! They're actually warm for the first time in, um, forever!" Dash grinned from ear to ear. Marshall stood, pleased that his gift was a hit.

"I know! Didn't I say they were mad comfy?"

Dash didn't answer; instead he grabbed Marshall by the shoulders and then hugged him, holding him tight for several seconds. This time, it was Marshall who choked up, he felt so sorry for Dash, he had no friends, no home, no family, no identity, not even a real name, and a stupid pair of socks made him cry. The weird boy with the grey hair and strange marks on his hands was just a lonely kid, a kid Marshall vowed to be kinder to in the future. It was the beginning of a friendship that would be epic. It would be talked about by future generations on two different planets and would inspire a thousand legends and stories. Dash X was on the verge of discovering his true identity, and when he did, it would forever change the life of Marshall Teller.


	2. Who's A Zombie?

"Mom! I'm home!" Marshall announced as if slamming the front door did not provide sufficient evidence of his arrival.

Mrs. Teller yelled from the kitchen, "Hi, sweetie. Something came for you in the mail, I put it on your dresser. Do you want a snack?" Considering he had just gorged himself on moon pies, Funyuns, and chocolate milk at Simon's house Marshall wasn't very hungry.

"No, thanks!" The lanky teen ran up the stairs to his room, curious about his mail. He didn't even bother to take off his backpack or heavy green jacket. He went straight to his dresser and examined the mysterious envelope. It was a large brown one and had no return address. The postmark was missing and it had no stamps, meaning that someone had placed the envelope directly into the family's mailbox. It was addressed to Mr. Marshall Teller in handwritten block letters. "Curious. Very curious indeed," Mars muttered to himself.

He carefully opened the flap, peeked inside and removed a large photograph. He gasped and stared at it intensely for several seconds. Finally, he flipped the photo over and saw what was printed on the back. "No freaking way!" Marshall dumped his backpack and stripped off his jacket before grabbing his walkie-talkie.

"Mars to minion, Mars to minion, come in minion!" Marshall and Simon could easily have phoned each other but communicating via walkie-talkie was much cooler and reinforced their sincere belief that they were actually super sleuths, detectives destined to expose Eerie, Indiana as the center of weirdness for the entire planet, if not the universe.

"Jeez, Mars, will you stop with the minion thing? It's insulting!" Simon sounded annoyed even through the hiss and static of the cheap radio.

"Never mind that, get your red headed butt over here, right now! You are not going to believe this, get over here now and bring your camera!" Marshall was unusually insistent. "It's about Dash, I know who he is!" The walkie went silent. "Hello? Simon?" Thirty seconds later the doorbell rang.

"I got it!" Marshall yelled as he bounded down the stairs two at a time. He yanked the front door open and grabbed Simon by the sleeve of his coat and hustled him up to his room. He shoved his young friend inside and slammed the door shut, locking it. Marshall's eyes were huge and he was so excited he felt like he had to pee but that could wait. He had to share this.

"Ok, here it is! Evidence beyond belief, something so amazing it will literally blow your socks off, something so incredible it will stun your mind and dent your brain, something so freakishly awesome it will make you laugh, make you cry, make you want to go to the bathroom, something …"

Simon cut off the older boy. "Mars! Get a grip! You always babble when you get excited, just show me what you have!"

Marshall escorted Simon to his dresser where the envelope was resting. He had replaced the photo and closed the flap. "You brought the camera, good man! Take a picture of this for the files, notice there is no postage and no return address."

Simon dutifully took a couple of photos with his instant camera then looked at Marshall. "Done. Now will you show me what the hell is in there?"

"In a minute, I hafta pee!" Marshall's bladder was about to explode and he ran off to the bathroom. "No peeking 'til I get back," he yelled over his shoulder.

"Arrrrrgh! Mars, you are nuts, I hope you know that!" Simon obeyed his friend's wishes and didn't look inside the envelope, instead he just stared at it, trying to gather as many clues as possible without peeking inside.

Marshall returned and seemed calmer. He told Simon to sit down and theatrically waved the envelope before his eyes. "Mr. Simon Holmes, prepare to be astonished." He opened it and removed the photo, it was a school portrait of a kid they both knew.

"Dash! It's Dash! Oh my god, Mars! It's Dash! Look at his hair, it's brown and his skin isn't all pasty looking, it's Dash!" Simon grabbed the picture and stared at it, looking for clues. "This has to have been taken before whatever happened to him, um, happened to him. He looks a little younger, too." He flipped it over and read out loud. "Jacob Anderson, Grade 8, Waterford School, Albany, New York."

Marshall complimented his friend. "You said he looked younger in the photo, good detecting! Check the date out, see, up here in the corner, two years ago. So 8th grade makes him 13, add two years and he's 15, that's what we always figured Dash to be, around 14, or 15.

"Mars, how the hell could a kid from New York end up in Eerie?" Simon turned the photo back over and stared at the image of Dash Jacob Anderson X.

"Hey, doofus, I'm a kid from New Jersey who ended up here in Weirdsville. The question is what happened to him. At least now we know who he is and we can track down his family. Maybe he's just a runaway from a bad home and he made up all that junk about having no memory."

"What about his hair and the marks on his hands? You think he actually dyed himself grey and tattooed minus and plus signs on his hands just to be mysterious? Seems like if he was a runaway he would want to have a low profile, not stand out." Simon wasn't buying it. "Was there anything else in the envelope or just the picture?"

Marshall realized that in his excitement over the photo he hadn't looked for more. "Dunno." Simon seized the envelope before Marshall could object and looked inside. "Dude, there's something else in here." He fished out a newspaper clipping and read it.

"Tragedy Strikes Local Family. Drs. Anthony and Janet Anderson and their 13-year old son Jacob were killed early Friday when their car apparently ran off Highway 9 near Latham under icy conditions and struck a tree. The Andersons were well known in the community for their work with orphaned and disadvantaged children. They operated the Anderson Clinics in Latham and Albany and served on the boards of several local charities. Jacob was a gifted student at the prestigious Waterford School and was president of the Albany Area Chapter of the National Honor Society, the youngest person to ever hold that office. He was the Anderson's only child. Services are pending."

Simon carefully handed the clipping to Marshall. The implications of what it said were not lost on him and he felt sick to his stomach. "Mars, he's a zombie! Dash is a freaking zombie!"

Marshall took the clipping, read it, and then carefully placed it on his dresser along with the photo and the brown envelope. "Simon, he's not a zombie! I don't know what all of this means or why Dash is the way he is but he's not a zombie! He's a really cool guy, he's totally screwed up but he's nice deep down and I really, really like him. You're always running him down, I think maybe you're jealous or something. He hasn't tried to eat your brain has he? Dash is no zombie! There has to be an explanation for all of this."

"Ok, Mars, chill, man. Maybe whatever turned his hair grey and put those things on his hands is what uh, brought him back, what's the word, um, resurrected him?" All of a sudden Simon said he had to pee. When he came back from the bathroom he looked sullen and his eyes were red. "Dude, I should go, my mom's on me about all the time I spend over here anyways and we have company coming for dinner. Are you going to show this stuff to Dash?" Simon knew the answer before he asked the question.

"Yes! I hafta show him, I owe him that much. Listen, just because I like Dash doesn't mean you and I aren't still best friends." Marshall saw that Simon was upset and playfully put his arm around his neck like he was choking him. Both boys laughed.

"See ya, Mars!" Simon smiled and waved as he left the room but Marshall had an uneasy feeling, a feeling that was about to get much, much worse.

Young Mr. Teller tossed and turned all night long. He got out of bed several times and paced up and down his room, he went back to bed and tried to sleep but couldn't. He wanted to ditch school the next day but knew he'd be caught so he made a plan to go to see Dash after class. Finally, around 4:00 a.m. Marshall collapsed on his bed and fell asleep. He dreamed about Simon and Dash and moon pies.


	3. D-Day

"Mars to minion, Mars to minion." The range on the walkie talkie was only a half mile but still Marshall thought if Simon was on his way he might hear him. No answer, no surprise. Simon had always been a little scared of Dash and now that he thought he was some kind of brain-eating living-dead zombie, it made sense he wouldn't show up at the meet. Marshall threw caution to the wind and said into his walkie, "love you, buddy" even though the probability of Simon actually hearing it was close to zero. Zero but not quite. Simon heard him loud and clear from his vantage point above the intersection where Marshall waited. He didn't know why he was there or why he was afraid to go talk to Dash but he was enormously gratified to hear those words from his friend. "Love you too, Mars, please be careful," he whispered into the thin air.

Marshall walked his bike up to the wooded lot that contained Dash's secret shack. He popped the kick stand out with his toe and watched as the bike collapsed, the stand digging deep into the soft soil. "Screw it," thought the teen as he turned away and fought his way into the thick underbrush that surrounded his friend's home.

"BANG!" Wide eyed Marshall Teller turned to see Dash X pointing a finger gun at him and grinning from ear to ear. "Dash! How the hell do you keep doing that?" Marshall was amazed at how his weird friend was always able to sneak up on him.

"Why is your red headed buddy scared to come see me?" Dash always played his best card first.

"What do you mean? Simon? I dunno." Marshall was perplexed.

"I just saw him. He's perched up the road looking down on the highway, seems like he was spying on you. I figure the boy detectives have some new evidence and you wanted to come tell me about it but he didn't. Am I right?" Dash was always right. No surprise. Dash was off the chart, over the top smart, he just didn't know it.

"Come inside buddy, there's been some changes." Dash escorted Marshall inside the old abandoned shack he had claimed for himself. The last time Mars had seen it he was surprised anyone would choose to live there but Dash had made some definite improvements. The floor was now covered with rugs, all miss-matched and odd colored but still they were better than dirt. The wooden crates had been replaced with a ratty old sofa and two equally ratty stuffed chairs, all 3 pieces of furniture had no doubt been rescued from a dumpster. The holes in the roof had been covered over by a big plastic tarp and instead of a sleeping bag in the corner there was an actual bed. "Welcome back to my humble abode, Mister Teller!' Dash bowed. Overall the entire place was still crappy but Dash seemed enormously proud.

"Yeah, Dash, it's nice." Marshall flopped down on the sofa, streching his long frame out, resting his head on one arm and his feet on the other.

"Why so sad, Teller? You have such a long face, is it something to do with me or just that you and Simon are on the outs?" Dash sat down on the sofa, moving his friend's feet out of the way.

Marshall sat up, he knew what he was about to show Dash would either make him very sad or very crazy, possibly both. He wanted to hug him but didn't, he wanted to run away but didn't. Instead, he put his right hand inside his jacket and pulled out the brown envelope that had been delivered to his house the previous day. He handed it to Dash.

The weird kid with the grey hair opened it up and saw his own picture from a time when he was normal. He read the writing on the back and looked back in the envelope and pulled out the obituary notice about the Anderson family. Tears welled up in his eyes and spilled down his cheeks.

"Boys, don't be stupid. Just do as we say. Nobody needs to get hurt here."

Mars and Dash looked up to see three very large and very serious looking guys standing just inside the doorway. The dude who spoke was in the front, his two companions were on either side of the door and had what looked to be weapons. All 3 of them were wearing cheap, dark colored suits and sunglasses, like they had all just seen Men in Black.

"You seek your identity and we have sought you, the contents of that envelope are only one very small part of your story. Let me begin by saying we are your friends, we have come here to protect you and to reunite you with your true family." The man in black smiled at Dash in a fatherly way and placed his hand on his shoulder.

"My family is dead! I know who I am, I'm Jacob Anderson and according to this, I'm dead too!" Dash's head was spinning. He felt sick to his stomach and thought he might puke at any second, he looked at Marshall for help, who put his arm around his shoulders, pulling him away from the man.

"The Andersons adopted you as an infant, they were friends of your people long before you were born. They were unfortunately killed as you now know. We suspect foul play. You were dead, son, but since your procedure you have been in constant danger. There are those who wish you permanently dead."

"I don't understand. What procedure? Who would want to kill my parents? Or me? Why can't I remember any of this?" Dash was clearly confused, upset and just plain scared. His whole world, such that it was, had just changed. How much it had changed he had no idea.


	4. Someone Should Have Listened

The lead man in black had compassion for Dash but he had a job to complete. They were in serious danger if they remained at the shack, after all they had easily followed the Teller boy here and someone else could have done the same.

"Stand, up, gentlemen, we need to get going." The man produced a small electronic tablet from his pocket and nodded to his two companions who put away their weapons and stood close together. Dash and Marshall stubbornly refused to budge.

"Suppose you tell us everything we need to know first," Dash smirked. Marshall was glad to see the old Dash return, in just a few seconds he went from a confused and frightened kid to a smart-assed punk who didn't believe a word any adult told him.

The man looked exasperated but remained patient. He no doubt had experience dealing with teenage boys. "I promise both of you that all of your questions will be answered as soon as we leave here but we must go right now. Will you both just stand up?"

Dash remained seated. He put his arm across Marshall's chest, preventing him from standing.

"Fine, have it your way but don't complain to me if you get hurt in transit." The head man pushed something on his pad and a blinding flash of white light filled the shack. Dash and Mars both fell backwards and landed with a thud. Dash caught himself with his elbows but Marshall landed hard on his butt, his motion continued backwards and he struck his head on the unforgiving surface. When their vision cleared they could see they were in what looked like a conference room in an office building. Dash stood and looked down at his friend who was stretched out on the floor.

"Mars, are you ok? Speak to me buddy, was that your head I heard hitting the ground?" All three of the men in black inspected Dash, who was obviously just fine. They turned their attention to Marshall, squatting down and looking closely at his eyes and inspecting the back of his head. They helped him up. They were all smiling, obviously enjoying that fact that these punks got what they deserved.

"That is why we asked you to stand. It's always risky to try transportation from a sitting position. Mr. Teller, your injuries are minor, you will be fine but the next time I ask you to do something realize it's for your own good." The leader of the men offered both Marshall and Dash a seat at an expensive looking wooden table. His two companions disappeared and he himself took a seat opposite the boys.

"As promised, gentlemen, I will now be happy to answer any and all questions."

Mars rubbed the back of his head while Dash's considerable brain power was busy processing information. Mars imagined he could actually see little wheels and cogs turning inside the boy's head. He felt sorry for the man. He knew Dash would never stop asking questions until he had every possible answer.

Meanwhile, back at the shack.

Simon had seen the three mysterious men follow Marshall into the woods and took off after them, staying a safe distance back. This was just the sort of thing he had been worried about. Even if Dash didn't eat Marshall's brains, there might be some bad guys who had set the whole thing up. Simon reasoned that whoever had put the envelope in the Teller's mailbox would know that Mars would hot foot it over to show Dash at his first opportunity. If someone really was after the weird living-dead kid with the grey hair, Marshall would lead them right to him.

Simon got down on his hands and knees as he approached the shack, he could hear voices inside, one of them sounded like it belonged to Mars. He crawled to a crack in the shack's wall and peeped inside. He was immediately blinded by a super powerful light and screamed in surprise. The red haired boy rubbed his eyes as his vision quickly returned, he cautiously took another peek through the crack and was surprised to see everyone had gone, they had all just vanished. He would have heard them if they had gone out the only door to the shack and he would have seen them pushing their way through the woods. How could 5 people simply vanish in a matter of seconds?

Simon rushed inside. He saw nothing of interest, just some crappy furniture and some really ugly rugs. Feeling completely defeated, the aspiring detective plopped down on the sofa. He felt something between the cushions, something hard pressing against his butt. He reached around and retrieved it, it was Marshall's walkie-talkie, now even if he were in range, Simon would have no way to contact his best friend. The friend who had apparently just been kidnapped by some creepy grown-ups and was in the company of an even creepier undead kid. He wanted to cry but instead he tried to think what his hero would do, he thought about how Mars would handle this if their situations were reversed.


	5. Questions and Answers

Dash calmed himself before speaking. He had learned in his brief time in Eerie that people didn't take him seriously when he got upset. He placed his hands palms down on the table and made eye contact with the man.

"What's your name?" Dash asked.

"Why does that matter to you?" said the man in black. He had a bemused grin as he took off his sunglasses. If he thought he was going to win a battle of wits with Dash, he was sorely mistaken.

"You said you would answer all our questions. Are you a liar as well as a kidnapper? What's your name?" Dash grinned at his opponent.

"My name is Drayton and I'm not a kidnapper."

"Just Drayton? Do you have some title like doctor or captain or chief?" The intensity of Dash's stare was beginning to un-nerve the man.

"Just Drayton. Now, why not ask me something you really want to know?" He turned his gaze towards Marshall. "Mr. Teller, why don't you ask something? It must be your turn by now, correct?"

Mars looked completely un-nerved. The weirdness of their transportation and subsequent ungraceful arrival was just beginning to sink in, these people were obviously not from Eerie. He gestured towards his friend's hands. "What do those marks mean?"

Drayton smiled and leaned back in his chair. "How about it, Dash, or would you prefer Jacob? Would you like to know what they mean?"

"Dash is just fine. I want you to answer Marshall's question, it must be a good one because you're stalling." Dash continued to grin and stare icily at the man.

"The marks are the symbols of a civilization that existed millions of years ago. No one quite knows who they were or what they were capable of or what happened to them. Fragments of their knowledge and technology have been carried down through the years and adopted by various peoples. The plus and minus signs are the equivalent of Yin and Yang, or the Alpha and Omega, the beginning and end, good and evil, lightness and dark. They symbolize the great cycle, the endless circle of existence. They represent life and death. You were exposed to their technology and bear their symbols as a result. I'm afraid they are permanent."

Dash and Mars exchanged glances and nodded. The next question was obvious. "Did I really die? How did I come back?" The grin was gone and Dash looked a little frightened to hear Drayton's response.

"Son, please understand I'm on your side in all of this. You obviously enjoy a little verbal jousting so I obliged you. From this point on, everything I will tell you is of the utmost importance and seriousness. Both of you listen carefully. It is a long and very complex story."

One of Drayton's men returned carrying a tray with cold water and sodas. He put it in the center of the table and left.

"Please, have a refreshment." The man opened a bottle of water and took a few sips. Marshall cautiously took an orange drink and Dash eagerly grabbed a root beer, it was his favorite brand.

Drayton began to speak. He looked only at Dash.

"Almost 16 years ago, you, as a newborn infant, were smuggled out of your home. Your parents feared for their lives and entrusted you to friends they had met on their travels when they were students. Those friends were the Andersons. They understood the seriousness of the political turmoil taking place in your homeland and agreed to raise you as their own child until your family could return for you."

"Sadly, the confrontation that engulfed your home was long and brutal and no one ever returned but everything went well enough for you until two years ago. You were a very happy boy, a brilliant student with a fine, creative mind and you loved your adoptive parents very much. You never suspected they were not your own flesh and blood."

"Rumors reached your home that enemies had tracked you to Earth and were plotting your murder. That's where my colleagues and I come in, we were hired by what remained of your family to find you and keep you safe until they could arrange your transport home."

Dash was intrigued. "Transport? You mean what we did just now?"

"No, I'm afraid the range of the small transporter devices are limited. Your home is quite far away and necessitates a voyage by starship. That can be very expensive and hard to arrange but your family has the resources."

Marshall looked like he was about to jump out of his skin. Did he just say starship? Did he just say Dash was tracked to Earth? WTF? His eyes were huge and every bit of color had drained from his face. Drayton noticed and asked if anything was wrong.

"Starship? What the hell do you mean starship? Who are you exactly? You scattered our molecules around with your transport thingy without even asking us, man! That was really rude! What if we materialized inside out? I've seen Star Trek! Those things don't always work right, you know! Are you even human? Are you lizards!? OMG! Are you guys lizards wearing people faces? I've seen V. Please don't eat me. I'm just a kid for god's sake, I probably taste bad …"

"Mars! Snap out of it!" Dash shook Marshall by the shoulder. "You go off on such weird tangents when you get worked up." Dash couldn't help but laugh at his friend's reaction and playfully bopped him on the head with his open hand. Drayton smiled at the boy and reassured him he was not a space lizard.

"May I call you Mars?" The man in black looked like he might burst out laughing any second.

Marshall nodded his consent.

"Mars, I am every bit as human as you are and so is your friend Dash. Humans are not confined to this one backwards little planet. We are the dominant life form in the galaxy and exist on thousands of other worlds. Feel better?"

Marshall nodded again and felt embarrassed and more than just a little bit stupid.

Dash spoke up. "So you think my parents, my earth parents, were murdered by these political enemies? What happened after they died? How did I get to be like I am now? Was I really, really dead? You never answered that question. Is being dead just some metaphor for being really fucked up? Why can't I remember any of this?"

"Can I pee?" Mars was moving around in his chair like mad, had he been standing he would have been hopping around on one foot. The boy had a weak bladder under the best of conditions and when he got excited he couldn't hold it at all.

Drayton laughed. He seemed amused by Marshall's antics and gave him directions to the bathroom. He looked at Dash, "You may as well go too, both of you go do whatever you need to do to settle down. The next part of this isn't particularly pleasant and I will need your full attention.


	6. Back From the Dead

Mars and Dash walked back from the bathroom together and sat down at the table. Drayton was waiting with folded hands and a very serious look on his face.

"Dash, to answer your question clearly and without equivocation, yes, you were in actual fact dead, very dead. You had no pulse, no blood pressure, no brain activity, and your neck and spinal cord were snapped." Drayton paused while the boys processed that last bit of information. He touched Dash's left hand briefly and made eye contact.

"My companions and I arrived in Albany a day before you and your parents were killed. We managed to put a tracking device inside your jacket and we were following behind your car at a safe distance, about 2 miles back. Suddenly the tracking map in our vehicle turned red and the car icon stopped moving. By the time we got to the scene everyone was dead. It appeared your car had driven head-on into a large oak tree at a high rate of speed. I'm sorry to tell you, son that your parents bodies were extensively damaged, mangled would be an appropriate term. You, however looked like you had just fallen asleep, your head was at a crazy angle to your neck but you were relatively undamaged."

"When we were hired we had been given an emergency contact in the Albany area in case something went wrong and the death of our charge and his adoptive parents was about as wrong as it could get. Our contact was a doctor, a friend of your real parents, Dash. He had been living on Earth for many years. His name is Toliver. When we explained the situation, he instructed us to leave all 3 bodies right where they were and to call the police. We did as he said and made plans to carry out his scheme to resurrect you, and only you, your parents had suffered too much damage for the procedure to work."

"At police headquarters Dr. Toliver produced a power of attorney document for the Anderson's and directed that all 3 bodies go to a local funeral home. He signed the death certificates and ordered that the coffins be sealed and remain closed during the services due to extensive injuries. With the help of a friendly funeral director, your coffin was filled with enough weights to simulate the body of a 13-year old boy. He placed you in a plastic body bag and delivered it to Toliver's home."

"We had been waiting and as soon as the hearse arrived we hustled your corpse downstairs to the basement where Toliver kept the alien device."

"By this time you had been dead for about 36 hours. There had been endless delays with the police and your bodies had been delivered mistakenly to a hospital where autopsies were about to be performed. We managed to stop them but while we were arguing you were taken to the wrong funeral home, where you were almost embalmed. We had to get a court order to get custody of the bodies back and deliver you where you needed to be; honestly, the amount of bureaucracy you have to deal with on this planet is astonishing. The resurrection device has its best results when the body is no more than 12 hours old but Toliver was convinced he could still save you."

"We carried you downstairs, took you out of the bag and laid you out on a steel table with wheels. You were nude and had turned a very nasty shade of blue-grey. Your mouth was gaping and your eyes were open and sunken into your skull. Not to restate the obvious Dash but you were about the deadest kid I had ever seen. Don't entertain any thoughts that you were merely unconscious, you were very clearly dead."

"Toliver instructed us to turn you over, face down, as we placed you on the table. We wheeled your body to a large metallic panel in the basement wall, it had the plus-minus symbols engraved on it. Toliver pressed a recessed button and the panel opened up, revealing a central cavity. Before placing you inside, the doctor took a scalpel and made a large incision in your neck, pulling back the skin and tissue, exposing your fatal injury. It was not a pretty sight, at least one of your vertebrae had been crushed and there was a tangle of bone, blood vessels, nerves, and gore hanging out of the wound. The blood that seeped out was black and very thick. He made another incision at the base of your spine and inserted a large needle deep inside. Toliver pressed another button and a flat surface about the size of a diving board slowly emerged from the device's cavity. We helped him place you on it, lying face down with your arms up over your head and your hands flat with the palms down. He pressed the button again and you and the board were taken into the alien machine. We watched as Toliver closed the panel and activated the resurrection device. It was eerily quiet and the only evidence it was working were the two plus-minus symbols on the panel, they glowed a very bright red."

"Two hours later an alarm sounded and the panel opened. After a few seconds the board you were lying on slowly emerged. We gently placed you back on the steel table and Toliver examined you. The gaping hole in your neck was gone. The hole at the base of your spine was also healed with no sign of either the scalpel wound or the needle. The backs of your hands bore the plus-minus symbols and your hair had turned grey. We turned you over, your skin was very pale but it was a lot closer to normal than it had been. Toliver listened to your breathing and seemed pleased. He shook you by the shoulders and called your name, you opened your eyes. They were sparkling and clear but your expression was a total blank and your pupils did not focus. You didn't respond at all when he asked you questions or slapped you. Toliver was afraid you may have suffered irreversible brain damage due to the amount of time you were dead. We helped him carry you to a bed he had setup in the basement. He promised to do everything he could to help you recover and told us to be patient. At that point, Dash, things seemed pretty bleak."

"Two days later Toliver contacted us and said to come over. When we arrived he escorted us to his study where you were sitting in an old overstuffed chair. You were dressed in new pajamas, a robe, and what looked like 5 or 6 pairs of socks and furry bedroom slippers. You smiled at us as we entered the room. I asked if your feet were cold and you said yes. I asked your name and you said you didn't know. I asked where you lived and you said you didn't know. I asked if you went to school and you said you didn't know. Tolliver asked you what time Star Trek was on and you said 5:00 p.m. on Channel 6. You also said Captain Kirk was a dope and asked if you could have a phaser."

"Toliver explained that you had regained your motor and some language skills within a few hours of the procedure. Physically you seemed perfectly fine except that your feet were abnormally cold. After a while you began repeating words he spoke to you and tried to rearrange them into sentences. As an experiment he brought you a television and allowed you to watch it as much as you wanted, absorbing everything you saw and heard. He quickly realized you weren't just mimicking sounds, you understood the words and were using them correctly. You also seemed capable of logical thought."

"Toliver asked you if Star Trek was real or made-up and you said it was a made-up story. In that case, he asked, why did you ask for a phaser if you knew they weren't real? You said that toy phasers were real and that you had seen them advertised on TV and thought it would be interesting to play with one. 'Real phaser sounds are fun fun fun for your fun fun fun loving boy,' you sang, and then imitated the sound of a phaser. Toliver theorized your memory had been completely erased by the resurrection procedure but you were learning at an amazing rate. He saw no reason why you could not re-learn everything you needed and maybe one day your childhood memories would return, or maybe not."

"One weird thing, you remembered all the new words and phrases you had learned but you could not remember your name although Toliver told you it was Jacob at least once each hour. You remembered people on TV but not people you actually met. You had no idea who Dr. Toliver was but you remembered every detail of the Starship Enterprise after seeing only one episode of Star Trek. You were progressing so rapidly, however, we had high hopes for your full recovery."

"We contacted your birth family and made arrangements for you to be picked up. Before that happened, however, you vanished. Toliver had come home one evening and found you gone, we of course assumed the worst, that the bastards that killed you once had taken you in order to finish the job. We contacted every police department in the country looking for you and after a year and a half we simply gave up. Your family members who had come to Earth returned home and everyone mourned your second death."

"We had already accepted another job and were preparing to leave when we received a report from Eerie, Indiana, from an old traveler named Ned. He said he had seen a grey haired boy with plus-minus signs on his hands, a boy who claimed he had no memory except for things in the recent past."

"We arrived in town and found out that many people had seen the weird kid with grey hair. Several said he was frequently in the company of a normal boy, a boy we discovered to be you, Mars. We left you the photo and the clipping thinking you would lead us to Dash and you did just that. And here we are."

"Wait, hold on, why don't I have any memory of what happened during the year and a half before I woke up in Eerie? And who snatched me away from the doctor's?" Dash seemed skeptical.

"Toliver said most likely your brain, while not permanently damaged, was certainly traumatized by the resurrection. Your long term memory was severely impaired and did not start fully working again until after you arrived in Eerie, that's why you couldn't remember your name when you were at the doctor's house, no matter how often you heard it. To you it must seem like you had no life at all before Eerie because you can't remember anything before you came here. Your language skills are far more advanced than the last time I saw you, Dash, and your survival skills are absolutely phenomenal so you obviously continued to learn and absorb knowledge even if you can't remember anything that happened to you before a few months ago."

"We think now that you simply wandered away from Toliver's house and got lost. Had the bad guys snatched you, you would most certainly be dead. The fact that you managed to feed and clothe yourself for two years on your own is truly amazing, especially for a boy with no memory of who he was or where he was from."

"It's not amazing to me," Mars told Drayton. He got up from his seat, beaming a huge smile. He stood behind Dash and put both hands on his shoulders. "He's the smartest kid I ever met and there's nothing he can't figure out." Now that he knew the whole story, Marshall was immensely proud of Dash. He was proud that he had managed to survive with incredible odds stacked against him, and he was proud that Dash was his friend. He couldn't wait to tell Simon all about it.


	7. Saving Simon

Marshall's abandoned walkie-talkie held Simon's attention. He examined it carefully, looking for clues, he turned it over and over in his hands. This wasn't good. Mars would never intentionally leave such a valuable piece of hardware behind. The boy was so intent on figuring out the mystery he failed to notice the two dangerous looking men who had entered the shack. One of them approached Simon, holding out a small device. There was a faint buzzing sound and the red haired boy slumped over on the sofa, completely unconscious.

Meanwhile.

Mars and Dash were still trying to understand everything Drayton had just told them when one of the other men came into the room. He whispered something to his leader.

"There's been a development, you two stay here, I'll be right back," Drayton vanished around the corner of the room and out into a central corridor. The boys could hear his footsteps as he quickly followed the other man. They could hear them speaking to each other in low, muffled tones.

Dash looked smug about something but Mars couldn't tell about what, exactly. He had the same look he gets when he's just gotten over on someone, or shoplifted some particularly expensive object, or completely outsmarted some snarky adult. Marshall was about to ask him what was going on when Drayton returned, alone.

He held up a slightly larger pad then the one he used to control the transportation device. There was a picture of a young boy on it, a boy with red hair who was gagged and tied, laying on a beat up old sofa. Before Drayton could ask if Dash and Mars recognized him, the two boys spoke in unison.

"Simon!"

"I take it you know him?" Drayton sat and motioned for the boys to do the same.

Mars spoke up first. "His name is Simon Holmes, he's my friend."

Dash looked annoyed. "He's our friend. You see Mr. Teller here and young Simon are engaged in the boy detective business and run their own agency. They were investigating my identity and actually did crack the case, it seems. I also saved both of their butts a few times when they got in over their heads."

Marshall was about to object but Drayton cut him off. "You two stay right here, DO NOT MOVE from this room, understand? Your lives might very well depend on it! My colleagues and I are going to rescue your friend."

Dash jumped up out of his chair and looked excited. Mars could tell he wanted to go with the rescue team. The weird kid with the grey hair loved adventure. "Are these the same bad guys who were after me? What do they want with Simon? I'm coming with you guys! Mars, hold down the fort!"

Drayton stood and forcibly pushed Dash back down into his chair. "You two aren't going anywhere! Yes, there're the same bad guys that are after you. They want us to turn you over to them in exchange for sparing Simon's life."

"Then I have to go! I'm not going to sit on my ass while these creeps murder our little red headed buddy." Dash defiantly stood up, only to be pushed back down into his seat by the much, much larger and stronger Drayton.

"You will in fact sit on that ass until I tell you otherwise! We don't need some goofy kid with a Rambo delusion getting in our way. This is very serious, grown-up stuff. We're highly trained soldiers with decades of experience in operations just like this. Now sit quietly or I swear I will have you restrained." Drayton was very pissed off.

Dash looked a little hurt but remained seated. "Ok, point taken. Can you at least tell us what the plan is, judging from the picture, they're holding him at my place, correct?"

Drayton took a deep breath, trying not to explode at the boy. "Yes, Dash, Simon is being held in your stately mansion. I will enter and negotiate for his release while scoping out the situation. We believe there are only 2 men, if that's the case, I'll give a signal and my two colleagues will rush the door and take out the bad guys while I grab the boy and transport him back here. Now if that meets with your approval, I have to get going."

Dash sarcastically approved the plan and promised to behave. He had that smug look again and Mars was beginning to worry his weird friend may do something stupid.

Drayton looked at Mars. "I'm counting on you son, to keep this one from getting into trouble. You two will be perfectly safe here, just sit tight and with luck we'll have your friend out of danger pretty quickly." Drayton patted Mars on the back and glared at Dash. Then he left, eager to get the rescue mission started.

The two boys sat silently for about a minute when the excited voices from the next room suddenly stopped and a flash of bright light was reflected down the corridor.

"They're gone, come on, Mars! Let's go save Simon!" Dash stood and started fishing around in his oversized long black coat, his shoplifter's special. Mars had seen him fit half a grocery store in that thing. Dash pulled out four items and laid them out on the table.

"Dash, are you insane? Where did you get those? How did you get those? Jeez Dash! This is nuts! You're going to get us all killed!" Marshall was on the verge of hysterics.

"Mars, calm down. Remember when you left the room to go pee? I acted like I had to go, too and Drayton sent me after you. I know how long it takes you to empty your bladder when you really have to go, so I figured I had a few minutes to explore. I found an unlocked room, a supply room of sorts. These geniuses whom you seem to think can do no wrong just left all their stuff sitting out for anyone to walk off with. So I helped myself."

"You no doubt recognize this, right? It's a transport control pad." Dash put it down and picked up a cigar shaped object with a handle. "This is a particle beam weapon, very deadly." He put it back down and picked up what looked like two very small hearing aids. "And these, my dear friend are communicators, so we can keep in touch." Dash fiddled around with one until a small microphone was extended. He told Mars to hold still and placed the device inside his right ear, with the mic pointing towards his mouth. He put the other device in his own ear.

"No! Stop it! Stop it, Dash X Jacob whoever the freaking hell you are! No! We are staying right here. I'm not going to let you get Simon killed!" Mars was in fact now completely hysterical. He dug around in his ear trying to get the communicator out so he could throw it in Dash's face. His hands were shaking too much to be of any use and he started to cry out of sheer frustration.

Dash did something that shocked both of them. He slapped Marshall very hard then grabbed him by his shirt and brought his face an inch away from his own. "Listen up, little man. Gung-ho Drayton and his boys may be just fine on their own but I have a feeling, a very strong feeling they are walking into a trap. We need to be there just in case. If we sit here on our cowardly butts and do nothing, Drayton, his men, and Simon are all going to end up dead!" Dash looked angrier than Marshall had ever seen him. "Now grow a pair of boy balls and get with the program!" He released his friend and straightened his shirt out for him. He smiled at Mars and apologized for striking him.

"Ok, Dash. We'll do it your way. Just one thing, though." Mars was grinning as Dash looked up. Marshall unleashed a deadly accurate blow with his right fist that landed squarely in the middle of Dash's face. The power of the punch literally knocked the grey haired boy off his feet. Dash scrambled up, laughing. His lower lip was bleeding and Mars gave him the handkerchief his mom always made him carry in his back pocket. Dash held it to his lip. "Now, that's what I like to see! Come on, killer! We've got lives to save!" Dash put his arm around Marshall's shoulders and filled him in on his plan. A few seconds later he picked up the weapon and stashed it in his pocket. He picked up the tablet and pushed what he hoped was the right button. "Eyes shut, Mars! This is going to be bright!"

The two boys vanished into thin air.


	8. Heroes

Mars and Dash opened their eyes and rubbed them. When they could focus they saw they were standing at the edge of the wooded lot that was home to Dash's shack. Marshall's bike was lying on its side underneath a tree right where he had left it.

"Good navigation, Dash!" Marshall said out loud. Both boys grabbed their ears in pain. Their communicators had apparently been activated during transport and they relayed Marshall's words at an incredible volume. Dash silently held a finger to Marshall's lips, signaling him not to speak again.

Experimentally, Dash tried speaking in the softest, lowest whisper he could manage. "I think these things are designed for whispers, not shouts, buddy!" Both boys heard the words clearly.

"I think you're right!" Mars whispered back. "How did you know what to do? How did you get us here?"

"I guessed." Dash told the truth. He had simply guessed and hoped for the best, reasoning that the device might be pre-set to the same co-ordinates Drayton's team had used.

"You guessed? Are you crazy?" Mars was getting excited again and Dash smiled at him.

"It worked, didn't it? Now let's move out!" Dash crouched as he entered the woods and Mars followed close behind. When they got close to the shack, both boys got on their hands and knees and crawled the rest of the way. There was no sign of Drayton or his men and there were voices coming from inside the shack.

"Stay here, I'm going to sneak a peek." Dash started to crawl but Marshall grabbed him by the ankle.

"I'm sorry I hit you," Marshall whispered. Dash turned around and smiled at Mars.

"Apology accepted, but why did you pick this particular time to tell me that?" Dash grinned, highly amused by this conversation.

"If you get killed I didn't want you to die thinking I was mad at you," Mars told him.

"Your overwhelming vote of confidence in my abilities is duly noted. Now, can I continue?" Dash was using his most cynical smile but he really was touched by Marshall's words.

"Sure. Just please be careful, ok?" Mars insisted.

"Sure, mom, I promise I'll be careful." Dash crawled up to the side of his shack and peeked through one of the many cracks in the wall. It was just as he had feared. Drayton and both of his men had been captured and were tied up and sitting on the sofa along with Simon. There were four bad guys, not two as Drayton had been led to believe. Dash assumed that two of them had been hiding in the woods and had overpowered Drayton's men. It had been a trap all along.

He carefully moved away from the crack and crawled back to Marshall's position. He told him the bad news.

"So, we're screwed," Mars concluded. Let's just call the cops and let them sort it all out.

Dash was shocked at how easily Marshall was ready to give up. "No cops! Those are some real bad asses in there, Mars. If they heard or saw cops they would kill everyone and just transport out, leaving a bunch of dead bodies, including a red headed one. You don't want that, do you?" Mars vigorously shook his head no.

"Ok, here's the plan." Dash laid out his scheme to his skeptical friend. "Mars, remember that talk we had about growing some balls? You have to do this, buddy. You have to do it for Simon, and for Drayton and his guys. Mars, if any of us have a chance of getting out of this alive, you have to do this."

Marshall reluctantly agreed and started to move into position. Dash stopped him. "Now it's my turn. Be careful, ok?" Dash playfully thumped Marshall on his head. "Use that big old brain of yours for once, you're a very smart kid, Mars, think before acting and be very careful. If things go bad, run like hell and save yourself." Both boys were crouching, trying to maintain a low profile. Dash grabbed his friend and hugged him. "Love you, Mars, you can do this, I know you can!"

Marshall hugged him back. "Love you, too, Dash. I can do this, I won't let you down!"

Dash grinned. "Now, if we're done being a couple of old ladies, let's go kick some ass!"

Marshall took his position behind a tree, about ten feet from the shack's door. Dash was waiting three feet behind Mars, lying flat on his stomach with the particle beam weapon tightly grasped in both hands. "Go!" Dash whispered.

Upon hearing the signal, Mars picked up a large pine cone and threw it at the door, quickly crouching back behind his tree. Nothing happened. "Wait, wait, wait," Dash ordered. Still, nothing happened. "Ok, do it again!"

Marshall threw another pine cone and as soon as it hit, the door opened. One of the bad guys looked out. "Go! Go! Go!"

Mars stood straight up and ran away through the woods, the bad guy saw him and ran after him. As soon as he crossed Dash's line of sight, the weird boy with the grey hair fired his weapon. The bad guy soundlessly vanished in a flash of purple light.

"Hide yourself, Mars and wait." Dash remained on the ground, keeping a keen eye on the shack's door. Three bad guys remained inside. When nothing happened for a couple of minutes, Dash ordered Mars back into position.

"Operation pine cone is go for round 2! Whenever you are ready, buddy."

Mars picked up a cone and hurled it at the door. This time two of the bad guys came charging out immediately. Mars jumped into the clear and waved at the men and stuck out his tongue, then he turned and ran like hell. There were two silent flashes of purple light. Both men chasing the boy vanished.

"Three down, one to go, Mars! You're doing great, buddy! Stay down." Both boys were well concealed and they waited a bit before resuming their mission. "Let's get into position, Mars, you remember what to do, right?"

"Yes, of course I remember what to do! I'm not a moron, you know!" Mars got a little bitchy when he was under stress and when he was under stress he invariably had to empty his bladder. Dash recognized his behavior and asked the obvious question.

"Mars, do you have to pee?"

"God, yes! Do I ever!"

"Well, pick a tree and do it! We can't have you pissing yourself during the rescue, it wouldn't look right." Dash laughed at his friend's expense but Mars ignored him and peed. A few minutes later he whispered to Dash that he was all done. The two boys converged on the shack's door. Marshall took his position and Dash crouched down right behind him with a death grip on his weapon.

"This is it, Mars! Do your thing!"

Marshall boldly knocked on the door and sang out in a loud and clear voice, "Girl Scout cookies!"

The next three things happened simultaneously: the door opened, Dash screamed "NOW!" and Mars ducked.

Dash stood up straight up and opened fire. The last remaining bad guy vanished harmlessly in a flash of purple light.

Dash swaggered into the shack and stood, facing Drayton. "Oh, we're sorry, sir! We disobeyed your direct orders! Maybe we should go back and sit our asses in those chairs you said not to move from, we are so sorry!" Dash laughed like mad while Mars untied Simon, who in turn helped untie Drayton, who untied his men.

Marshall stood beside Dash and nudged him. "Cool it, man. Nobody likes to have their nose rubbed in crap. Just be nice for once."

Dash obliged and apologized to Drayton for his snotty comments. Before anyone could say anything else, Drayton had recovered his pad and weapon. He made sure everyone was standing and transported them all the hell out of there.


	9. Prince of the Realm

Upon arriving safely back at headquarters, Drayton debriefed all three boys. He listened as Simon told his story, how he had trailed Mars and had seen three men following him into the shack and how everyone just vanished and how the bad guys had sneaked up on him. He listened patiently as Marshall gave his version of events and, saving the best for last, turned to Dash and asked for his version of how the rescue at the shack went down. Much to everyone's astonishment, Dash merely said Marshall's version was accurate. He also added that Mars was the real hero here and should be commended for his bravery.

"No way! Dash is just being modest, I know that really doesn't seem like him but he is! It was his plan all along, he dreamed it up, ah, acquired the weapon and the other stuff we needed and saved everyone's life! Dash is the hero, I just threw some pine cones and knocked on a door!" Marshall was characteristically getting over-excited and both Dash and Drayton pointed him to the bathroom.

"Uh, thanks. I'll be right back."

After he peed, Mars and Simon were escorted back to their homes by Drayton's men. Dash remained behind. He was absolutely forbidden from returning to his shack and was informed that this was his new home, at least for the immediate future. At Dash's insistence, he and Marshall were allowed to keep their communicators and used them to talk to each other almost every day.

Two months passed before Mars and Simon were allowed to visit. They were given co-ordinates inside a city park and told to wait. They materialized in a flash of light. They recognized the conference room but something new had been added. A large coat of arms hung over the table. Two very fierce looking black birds were depicted in flight against a bright yellow background. Mars noticed Dash was absent and was about to ask where he was when a well dressed young man entered the room.

Dash still had grey hair but it had been neatly trimmed, brushed and combed. He was wearing a military style black tunic with gold shoulder boards and gold braid on the sleeves. He wore matching pants and a pair of shiny black leather boots. The same crest that was on the wall was embroidered on his chest and he wore a pair of black half gloves, the fingerless kind some rock stars and bikers wear. They covered the plus-minus symbols very neatly.

"Dash! My god, you're beautiful! Uh, I mean handsome or whatever! Jeez, man you look great!" Mars was overjoyed to see his friend and embraced him. Dash returned the hug and turned to Simon.

"What's the matter minion, aren't you happy to see me?" To his shock, Dash hugged the red headed boy and welcomed him to his home.

All three boys took a seat. "So, remember not too long ago I didn't have a name? Then I had one, Dash X, and then I learned I was really Jacob Anderson, and now I've learned I have still another name, my real identity." Dash looked slightly embarrassed and looked to Drayton, who continued.

"Dash is actually Larkin Rho, nephew of Emperor Bondor III of the Arlastian Empire. Prince Larkin is currently 7th in line to ascend the throne and given the political turmoil in his home, he may very well one day wear the crown."

"Crazy, huh? Who would have guessed I'm freaking royalty?" Dash laughed but Mars and Simon just stared in complete and total awe.

"Guess what? I met my family, at least one of my uncles, he was right here, in this room. The plan is to keep me on Earth until the fighting cools off back home, if it ever does. So that means I get to stay here in Eerie, with you guys!" Dash was clearly pleased at the prospect.

Prince Dash delivered more good news. "Drayton and his men have to leave and I get to stay here in my new home and you guys are welcome any time, in fact I kinda thought it would make a pretty neat headquarters for our detective agency!"

Simon was a bit cautious. "Our detective agency? You mean Mars and my detective agency!"

"Simon! If Dash wants to join us, he's welcome to! After all he saved your scrawny butt!" Mars was a little disappointed in Simon's reaction. "Dash, it will make a great headquarters! Right, Simon, right?"

Simon smiled at Dash. "Sure it will! Thanks, partner!"

Mars looked at Drayton. "I know Dash has demonstrated how well he can take care of himself but you're just going to leave him here, all alone?"

Drayton smiled. "No, I wouldn't dream of leaving a boy his age completely on his own. We've hired someone to look after him." He pressed a small button on the side of the table and someone entered the room. Mars recognized him at once.

"Ned! I thought you went back to your world! What are you doing back in Eerie?" Marshall was glad to see the old man, the former bartender and caretaker of the Loyal Order of Corn.

"Well, I did return home but all of my friends had moved on. Plus you can't believe how much a planet can change in a hundred and fifty years! I barely knew the place. So when I heard about the opening here, I decided to return to Earth. The boy is almost grown so he won't need very much from me, I imagine, and that will give me ample time to work on my experiments. Besides all that, the gig pays really well!"

Dash winked at Mars and whispered in his ear. "It seems I'm rich. My uncle left a butt load of gold and what he called 'local currency' in other words, a butt load of good old U.S. Dollars!"

Drayton's men came into the room and stood facing the table. Drayton joined them, as did Ned. Dash, grinning from ear to ear took something from a box that had been sitting on the table. He stood under his family's coat of arms and spoke.

"Simon Holmes, please stand." Simon stood and Dash approached him. "Simon Holmes, for duty to the Empire and for superior detective work, I bestow upon you the Cross of Valor." Dash placed a ribbon with a large medal attached to it around Simon's neck. He then shook his hand and kissed him on each cheek. He whispered in his ear, "Good job, minion!"

Simon beamed, he was immensely proud.

"Marshall Teller, please stand," Dash commanded. He approached his friend with more love and pride inside him than he had ever felt. "Marshall Teller, for extraordinary bravery, for uncommon valor in protecting a prince of the realm, for outstanding service to the crown, and for unsurpassed loyalty, affection, and friendship, I, Prince Larkin of the House of Rho, bestow upon you the Medal of Justice and proclaim you a member of the Order of Orion." Dash draped an ornate red and gold sash across Marshall's chest. He then pinned a large silver medal on it. He shook his hand, kissed him on each cheek and hugged him, whispering into his ear, "Don't let it go to your head, Mars. I remember you when you were just a goofy kid with a nervous bladder!"

Dash took the ceremonial sword that Ned had brought him and ordered Mars to kneel.

Dash touched the sword lightly on each of Marshall's shoulders. "I hereby dub thee, Sir Marshall of Eerie!" The room erupted into cheers.

After a festive little celebration, Drayton and his men left. Ned went off to his labs to work on his experiments, and Dash excused himself. "You two make yourselves at home, I'll be right back!"

Dash returned 10 minutes later wearing his old grungy boots and pants and a tee shirt that had seen better days. His hair was again unruly and flying in every direction. He sat between Mars and Simon. "Man, it feels so good to be out of those ridiculous clothes! I hereby declare this meeting of the Teller-Holmes-Dash X detective agency called to order!"

END OF STORY


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